A Real Faerytale
by Arrow-of-Mirkwood
Summary: What if Arthur had never been taken away from Uther? What if he and the knights of the Round Table grew up together? Surely at one point they must have been youths getting into trouble and going off on adventures? What if he met Guinevere early? This is a story of what if. Be warned: The author does not take herself seriously and this story is full of bad humor!
1. Chapter 1

_A Real Faery Tale_

Please do not take this story seriously, its my go-to story when i'm sick of writing Book of One, as such I take all my frustration and humor out on it, causing this story to have evolved into something very strange.

It also features the characters we are all familiar with, but gives them teenage personalities as such it is set in a period before the 'golden age' of Arthur and has little to do with the movie or the legends. It also needs some artistic leeway to make any sense-Uther never gave up Arthur, he was brought up as the prince. Gwen was lost by her father in the words and thus wasn't brought up as a princess. The other 'one day knights' are simply Arthur's playmates or acquaintances, not necessarily from noble birth. I think that's all the back story you need!

* * *

Chapter I

_Oak Trees of evil intent and other dramatic-sounding escapades_

* * *

As so many faery tales begin, this one starts with a girl of debatable blood line making her way in the world, however unlike so many other sagas, this tale does not have a happily-ever-after; true stories rarely do.

Once upon a time, when crones still locked maidens in towers and witches enchanted princesses to sleep for a hundred years, a girl of unremarkable upbringing became involved in an Important Adventure.

Guinevere -or as she preferred to be called Gwyn-lived in the middle of a forest. She was situated exactly two miles away from the nearest village, with her mother Brianna in a small cottage. Although a rather idyllic sounding existence, the truth was far from it. Gwyn and her father had become separated in this very forest when she was a young child, and Brianna had taken her in when she had found the small girl lost and alone. The problem of course, was that Gwyn couldn't stand the woman.

It was early morning, pre-dawn really, and Gwyn had just been woken by her mother screaming brightly. "Rise and shine you miserable child!"

The last comment was completely illogical in Gwyn's opinion, as how one could physically shine was quite beyond her.

Gwyn cracked a yawn, pondering her mother's complex nature.

She had just decided her mother was an evil bitch-sorry witch, when her mother's voice came screeching. "Gwyn you ungrateful brat! Up! Go and collect the eggs!"

Yes, mused Gwyn, her mother was most defiantly evil, and with a voice like that, quite possibly a banshee. If mirrors had been invented, all of them would have cracked at Brianna's high pitch and wailing quality.

Gwyn let loose another yawn, and idly wondered if her jaw was going to pop anytime soon, then dragging her feet like the zombie she felt she was, Gwyn made her way to the chicken house to look for eggs.

As she did she passed a small pool of rainwater collected by the storm the night before. Gwyn paused and looked at her reflection. "Shite! I look like I feel…" Gwyn muttered before entering the chicken house that for anyone of normal stature would have a proved a difficult and annoying task; only a contortionist or a small child could have got easily through the door, as it was Gwyn was neither.

She was, as she liked to put it, vertically challenged. Not that anyone knew what the hell that meant, but that was beside the point, it made Gwyn sound intelligent, which was always something she enjoyed.

Gwyn wrinkled her nose at the smell within the hen house, and quickly checked to see if there were any eggs. This took longer than you might think, as it involved Gwyn poking the chicken with a long stick until they moved, for you see, Gwyn was deadly afraid of poultry.

One of the chickens decided it had had enough being prodded and squawked indignantly, startling an answering squawk from the girl.

Several minutes later, a frazzled Gwyn made her way out of the hen house only to be attacked by their watchdog Adolph.

"Bloody hell!" Gwyn swore hopping on one foot as the other was assaulted by her overly eager pet.

"This is not my day…" Gwyn muttered before dragging herself, dog and all over to the pool of rainwater and trying to drown Adolph in it.

Adolph let out a gurgled whimper and snapped at the offending pool before bouncing off to cause more havoc and mayhem.

Gwyn snarled at a small bluebird perched in the branches of a pine tree that was singing to cheerfully for her taste, and limped off.

No-one but Adolph saw the bird drop dead from the tree a second later, to land with a wet thwack on the ground.

Gwyn shook her head as Adolph tried to bury his own head in a mound of dirt, and wandered into the house, bracing herself for another tongue-lashing from her mother.

After her daily session of verbal abuse, Gwyn went to check her lines in the nearby river, hoping to have caught some fish.

It was a great excuse to go and see her two friends as she did once a week by sneaking off.

Skipping happily, and falling over tree roots as a result more than once, Gwyn made her way to the cheerfully named River of Death. The morning quiet broken by occasional cries from Gwyn as she flew over yet another tree root.

Finally, dirty faced and scowling Gwyn arrived at the riverbank to be met by her two friends, Eve and Entaully, twins and fellow peasants from the nearest village. Luckily their names had been changed over the years to end up as 'Eve' and 'Lily'.

Eve, the tallest and eldest of the three friends giggled. "Gwyn, why do you have leaves in your hair?"

"I was attacked." Scowled Gwyn.

Lily's eyes widened, "Who by?"

"A tree." Spat Gwyn.

Eve chuckled and then coughed to cover it. "Who won?"

"It did, bloody oak trees…"

The sisters rolled their eyes at Gwyn's antics, grinning.

A few hours later, Gwyn sighed and squinted at the sun, judging its position in the sky. 'If I am out any longer, my mother will be angry. I must go…"

The girls nodded and hugged one another.

Eve stepped back from her embrace and searched Gwyn's face worriedly. "Gwyn, be careful."

Gwyn laughed. "Of what? I'm already going to be skirting those damn trees don't worry."

"You not what I mean Gwyn. Brianna doesn't example have the best reputation in the village, and by your stories she is only getting worse"

"Senile in old age perhaps" Gwyn quipped, but then stopped when she saw how serious the twins were. "I know, I'm going to leave soon, like I always said I would. I probably won't see either of you again for a long while".

"Where will you go?"

Gwyn shrugged eloquently, "far away from here."

Lily's eyes filled with tears. "We will miss you."

"I'll come back one day I promise. And Eve?"

Eve but her lip, "yes?"

"Give those trees hell for me." Then Gwyn strode away not looking back.

Gwyn collected the fish from the river and made her way back to her home, when her mother screamed at her for being late, she simply told her she had 'become lost.'

"Lost? You've lived here all your life!" Brianna roared.

Gwyn winced as she felt a headache beginning to pound at her forehead. "Really mother? I thought we lived in Gaul."

"Don't give me your cheek!" her mother hissed and brought her fist crashing down on Gwyn's face.

Gwyn's head snapped back and she winced, gingerly putting her fingers up to her cheek, knowing it would bruise.

Brianna sneered. "Don't forget your place. Now go and wash your face."  
Gwyn wandered away to find a washbasin, pondering if her mother's rhyming had been unintentional or not.

While her mother made some nameless grey gruel, Gwyn secretly prepared what few belongings she had, she couldn't stand another moment in that retched place.

Taking a deep breath and collecting herself, Gwyn strode into the kitchen. "I'm leaving."

"You what?" Brianna's voice raised several octaves.

"Leaving, mother, you know, like departing, separating, saying goodbye?"

"You can't! You have no-where to go! I forbid you! No!"

Gwyn closed her eyes in silent torment. "Stop your infernal rhyming!"

"My _what?"_

"Goodbye mother. And by the way, you'd make an awful poet."

Then Gwyn ran.

Gwyn ran hard and fast until her mother's screaming had faded; she ran blindly and desperately, going further than she had ever dared travel from home. When she finally stopped, she had no idea where she was.

She looked about at the clearing she stood in, oak trees surrounding her-a fact which made Gwyn's nose wrinkle-and late afternoon sunlight streaming through the branches.

Gwyn decided there was little more she could that day, and so it was best to relax. So just like any other self respecting girl would do in her position, Gwyn lay down and on her stomach and sunbathed.

Gwyn woke with a start, looking round disorientated. She swore as she realized she had fallen asleep for hours, the shadows were long, and the sun was setting.

Gwyn stood, making a face as her stomach rumbled, in her rush she had forgotten to bring food. She looked about nervously, taking in the shadows and the slight rustling of birds in the branches and gulped nervously. "Why does everything look so scary at night?" she asked a nearby oak tree.

The oak tree stayed obstinately silent.

Gwyn moodily kicked the roots of the tree before climbing up in its branches to sleep, who knew what evil beasties wandered the forest floor at night?  
She settled herself in a fork in the tree and smiled.

She was cold, hungry, tired, lost, and for the first time in a long time she was truly happy.

* * *

First chapter over! Second chapter we meet Arthur!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

_An unfortunate meeting preordained by fate (it always is)_

* * *

Gwyn woke to find herself sitting in an oak tree. For a moment she sat there in a state of confusion, but then she remembered the events of the day before and attempted to climb down.

Gwyn moaned as she fell from the tree and landed with a resounding smack on the forest floor, her limbs having gone to sleep for sitting still so long.

"One day, I will bring a hacksaw to every oak tree I see." Gwyn muttered, spitting out dirt. She looked up to see a shoe, two shoes in fact. She had a sudden urge to chew one as she still hadn't eaten for several hours and was becoming rather desperate, however she refrained, examining it instead. It was a rather nice shoe, she had just decided, when a cough startled her from her thoughts.

"So….Come here often?" came an amused and noticeably male voice.

Gwyn leapt to her feet, dusting herself off haughtily. "No. do you?"

The man's face fell. "No…never mind. So what's the interest with my shoes?" He was in fact little older than Gwyn herself, his hair was black and messy, and his skinned tanned, he led a brown horse and was grinning in amusement.

"Shoes tell you a great deal you know. For instance, I would call you a thief for wearing such good clothing and leading such a fine steed, but from you cultured speech, I know you are a prince in disguise."

The youth gasped in horror. "Is it so obvious?"

"The small engraving on the side of your boot reading 'property of Prince Arthur gives it away somewhat." Gwyn answered dryly.

Prince Arthur blushed. "Oh, yes. I'm running away for an adventure to prove myself. Everyone treats me like a child, so I'm going to come back a hero and everyone will have to respect me! Only I'm not supposed to go away at all, so I disguised myself. My father's guards will already be looking for me I suppose. Anyway, aren't you supposed show a bit of respect to your kingdom's prince?"  
Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Dear god, you can't get anymore clichéd could you? And yes, this is the part where I am supposed to fall to the ground and beg your forgiveness."

"But…?"

"But this is no ordinary faeiry tale."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "Do I want to know what you are talking about?"

Gwyn flashed him a grin. "Probably not."

Arthur looked around frowning. "So tell me maiden, where do you go on this fine day?"

Gwyn's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "Look Prince A, I'm busy, so go find some other poor maiden to stalk."

Arthur tracked the girl's rising eyebrows with interest, and then snapped his attention back to the matter at hand. "It's Arthur not A. And I'm not stalking you, just taking an interest in your wellbeing, as all good gentry should." He stated loftily.

"Well you can take your goddamn gentry and shove it up your-' however exactly where Arthur could shove his gentry was thankfully not revealed as just then the princes horse decided that Gwyn's hair looked too edible to pass up the chance for a nibble. Gwyn let out a yelp as the horse bent its neck and began to chew her hair. "Call it off!" she yelled.

"He's not a dog you know." Snapped back Arthur, pulling his resisting horses reigns.

"Well soon he's going to be turned into a hot dog" shouted Gwyn.

Arthur's mouth dropped open, "How dare you say that about poor Barnaby?"

Gwyn let out an unintelligible yell as the stubborn horse yanked her hair upwards, trying to dislodge it from its roots.

Gwyn slapped the horse as hard as possible, her hand somehow getting caught in the reigns.

Barnaby let out an indignant whinny and bolted.

"Flapper jack!" Arthur swore as Gwyn was jerked along behind the horse, her hand still securely trapped by the reigns. Arthur chased after them madly, but was quickly left behind.

The ride lasted only a moment, but it was the most terrifying time of Gwyn's life. It ended an instant later when Gwyn's head collided with a low-lying oak branch.

"Damn oak trees." Gwyn managed before passing out.

* * *

Gwyn woke a while later to the sensation of being jolted around as she traveled at a fast pace. Gwyn's head shot up and she looked around. 'What the hell…'

A voice in her ear caused her to yelp. "Do not be frightened, you were knocked out when my horse bolted, I took the liberty of carrying you with me on my horse, I could not just leave you there."

"You again." Gwyn attempted to turn her head to glare at the prince.

She suddenly became aware of Arthur's arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from falling off. "Err; you can let me off now."

Arthur called his horse to a halt and let her slide down. She looked around uncomprehendingly. "Where are we?"

"Ah. Yes, well about that…"

Gwyn rubbed her forehead tiredly, wincing as she came in contact with a large knot on her forehead from her unfortunate collision with the oak branch. "You don't even know, do you?"  
"I know where I am headed, I am just unsure of our exact location." Muttered Arthur guiltily.  
"Listen your highness, I'm very glad that you rescued me and all that, but really, you can just go on your way now, and I shall go on mine."

"I don't even know your name." the prince muttered looking downcast.

"It's Guinevere ." Gwyn muttered uncomfortably.

The interest in Arthur's eyes sharpened. "That's an usual name, did your father give it to you?"

"I do not know I was found and taken in by strangers who raised me for most of my life…" Gwyn murmured, confused by the line of questioning.

Arthur's shoulders sagged, but he nodded. "I see. I have a favour to ask of you."

"Find someone else, sire."

Arthur's frown deepened. "My name is Arthur, I am trying to run away from those titles and such like."

"Alright then, _Arthur_. What do you want with me?"

"I am on a quest to find the heir to the neighboring kingdom, I overheard my father talking about it a few days ago and it reinforced what the old legends say. I will travel until I find some clue to their whereabouts, but I have lived a sheltered life I am beginning to realize, and need some help blending in, will you help me get by?"

"Umm…look, Arthur why would you want to find this heir?"

"Because their whole family disappeared one night, deposed by the king's adviser. My father had a great friendship with the king before he disappeared, and our two kingdoms were at peace. But relations between our kingdoms have been getting worse since his disappearance, the impostor who sits on the throne needs to be removed so our kingdoms can be at peace once more, but for this to happen, the king or his family needs to be found!"

"Of course, I should have known!" Gwyn threw her hands up in frustration. "The evil adviser _would_ be bad, and I _would _get caught up in this. All you need now is the Grand Vizier to wander in wearing black and cackling. Look Arthur, I don't have time for misguided faery tales. Come back in say…three hundred years."

Arthur sighed. "Look, you're stuck out in the middle of this wood, so why don't I help you get out and in turn, you help me. What were you doing out here anyway?"

"Running away. I thought I'd try to find my father." Muttered Gwyn, blathering out the first thing that popped into her head.

Arthur nodded. "I will help you look for your father on the way, if you help me look for the royal family. Please?"

Gwyn took one look at the prince's pathetically hopeful face and groaned, unable to withstand it. "Fine."

Arthur grinned and offered her his hand to pull her back onto the horse.

Gwyn grasped his hand and let herself be pulled up in front of him.

Gwyn nodded. "Let's just get on with this harebrained adventure shall we?"

Arthur kicked his horse into action. "Onwards Barnaby!" He shouted in an attempt of grandeur which failed miserably.

* * *

They reached an inn at nightfall; Arthur gave the horse to a stable boy and wandered into the inn, trailed by Gwyn.

Gwyn gave a strangled squawk as she tripped over the threshold, causing the dozing bar man to jerk away with a cry. "Marge! Chickens are escaping again!" his elbow jilted a lantern over the bar counter and the oil spilled onto a candle, a flare of light followed and suddenly the entire tavern was alight with flame. Gwyn's eyes tracked the flame towards a keg of barrel's it was steadily approaching, her eyes narrowed as they zoned onto the black substance spilling out.

"Gunpowder." Arthur gasped.

"Well screw me sideways." Gwyn blurted out, but that was the most she managed to get out before Arthur dived out of the tavern pulling Gwyn with him.

They landed lying in a muddy puddle, Gwyn lying wide eyed on top of Arthur. "I'm not that kind of girl!" she squeaked, but was drowned out by the massive explosion of the flame reaching the gunpowder.

Gwyn suddenly found herself completely deaf, the explosion having temporarily blown her eardrums, and also partially blind from the light spots dancing in front of her eyes. "Not quite the entrance we wanted to make…" she gasped before fainting.

Arthur buried his head in the puddle. "This is so not going the way I wanted it to…" he blubbered, spitting out mud as he did so. A stray chicken wandered past and promptly fainted, whether this was because of Arthur's less then clean face, or because it had just wandered out of a burning building will never be known.

The chicken woke up only to be confronted by Arthur grinning down at it hopefully. "Dinner!" He exclaimed happily.

The chicken expired.

* * *

And its just going to get steadily weirder from here... I did warn you this was my humor outlet!

Also, I live for reviews! No flames on the inaccuracies please, as I said before, this is a silly story not to be taken seriously, I am well aware of its shortcomings, such as no gunpowder existed in the dark ages. Yes I'm aware.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

_Following a horse always leads to trouble_

* * *

Gwyn woke to find herself lying on something soft and warm, for a moment she kept her eyes closed. _Perhaps this will turn out to be a perfect Faerytale. I'll open my eyes and find myself lying on a soft feather bed…_Gwyn thought happily. Unfortunately when she opened her eyes, she found reality was quite different.

She was lying on top of Arthur, who had fallen asleep after attempting to drown himself in the puddle.

Gwyn shot up with a yell, effectively waking Arthur up.

He moaned and rolled over, then leapt up spluttering, having just rolled face first into the puddle.

It was just before dawn, the destruction of the tavern laid only metre away, no life stirred.

Arthur stared at Gwyn dazedly. "Do you have a map?"

Gwyn threw up her hands in frustration. "No! I-"

"Because I'm lost in your eyes…" Arthur finished, slightly cross eyed.

Gwyn stared at him totally bewildered. "Oh great, I'm stuck in the middle of no-where with a prince who has gone totally mad."

Arthur rubbed his head and with effort uncrossed his eyes. "Ow…I think I hit my head."

Gwyn crossed her arms. "Well…this sucks."

Arthur attempted a smile. "We have food at least."

"We do?"

Arthur triumphantly grabbed a small unidentifiable lump up from the mud with a wet squelching sound.

"What the f-" Gwyn began but was cut off by Arthur. "It's a chicken!"

"That lump on your head has driven you officially nuts" Gwyn's nose wrinkled with distaste.

"And it will be our dinner" Arthur finished proudly.

Gwyn's eyes bulged.

* * *

As the sun rose above the mountains, the first rays of sunlit lit upon an odd scene.

A young man covered in cinders sat cross-legged desolately plucking at a small mud covered object in his hands, a stray feather occasionally blew past, making the poorly dressed girl beside him sneeze.

"Please stop molesting that chicken." Coughed Gwyn.

Arthur flinched. "I'm plucking it to cook."

"And how are you going to cook that lump of mud?"

"My chicken will cook very well; we can light the wood from the remains of the inn…" Arthur blushed guilty at the last part.

Gwyn sighed. "It's a shame isn't it? If only credit cards had been invented, then you could just pay straight up…"

Arthur blinked for a moment, "Sorry, what?"  
Gwyn smiled innocently. "Nothing." She then let out a strangled squeak as she inhaled one the stray feathers.

Arthur sat bolt upright eyeing Gwyn hopefully. "CPR?" he asked.

Gwyn gave him a death glare, bringing her clenched fist crashing down on her chest a couple of times to try and dislodge the offending feather, while her other hand grabbed the unidentifiable lump Arthur claimed was a chicken and stuffed it in his mouth.

Arthur let out a muffled yell of disgust and spat out the muddy-saliva covered chicken into his palm, then threw it away as hard as possible.

It landed with a wet thwack on a farmer who had come to check on the still smoking rubble of the inn. "I'll come back later." The man mumbled, removing the much abused chickens body from its resting place upon his head and wandering off dazedly.

"I think we stunned him." Gwyn muttered guilty.

"Err, now would be a good time to scarper I believe…"

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Some adventure this is turning out to be."

"Oh hush, we shall mount Barnaby..." Arthur trailed off. "Where _is_ Barnaby?"

"Probably did what any self respecting horse would do and buggered off…" Gwyn muttered.

Arthur glared at her. "Poor Barnaby is probably lost in some dark wood, feeling hungry and lonely…"

"…surrounded by oak trees…" Gwyn shook her head. "Your right, its too terrible a fate for even Barnaby. Not to mention he's our only mode of transport. Let's go."

"You just want to take advantage of poor helpless Barnaby!"

"He's a horse."

"And that people, is prejudice against horses." Arthur told the air with satisfaction.

"He tried to eat my hair."

"He was hungry!" Arthur looked around at the desolate area for support.

"Alight, now I'm getting worried, please stop addressing the air as if it will answer back."

Arthur pouted and began walking towards the nearby forest. "My invisible friends don't like you. Come on, Barnaby will be feeling lonely."

Gwyn followed the prince, spluttering.

The forest was green.

This caused a certain amount of annoyance from Arthur who believed that all self-respecting forests should be dark, dank, and gloomy.

"What's this forest called?" asked Gwyn, stepping over a brightly moss covered rock.

"The forest of Ultimate Doom." Mumbled Arthur mournfully as a fluffy white rabbit bounded over his path.

Gwyn grinned and patted the prince on the shoulder before once again concentrating on the ground, following Barnaby's' tracks.

A loud whinny from up ahead suddenly cut through the relative quiet.

"Barnaby!" Arthur roared, he unsheathed is sword, tripped over it, then sprinted off towards the direction of his horse.

Gwyn rolled her eyes and meandered after him.

A moment later she was greeted by a strange sight indeed. The forest opened out into a small clearing, a woodcutters hut sat in the centre, the chimney smoking softly. However Gwyn's attention was brought to just outside the hut.

Barnaby stood tethered to a tree, munching on some grass contentedly. Arthur and a man that had to be a woodcutter were duelling.

"Well screw me sideways…" Gwyn muttered in amazement as the woodcutter disarmed Arthur with a flick of his own blade.

The woodsman looked up and sheathed his sword. "Hello lass, do ye know this lad?"

Gwyn nodded. "Unfortunately." She muttered.

Arthur scrabbled for his sword and sheathed it blushing. "Who are you and why have you kidnapped my horse?"

"_Your _horse? Well why didn't you say so instead of charging at me like that?"

"I thought you were hurting Barnaby." Arthur muttered.

"You great baby." Gwyn told Arthur laughing.

Arthur blushed harder. "I _like _Barnaby."

Gwyn muttered something about inappropriate sexual harassment; however it was thankfully drowned out by another whinny from Barnaby.

The woodsman un-tethered the horse and handed the reins to Arthur grinning. "Which way are you headed?" he asked them.

Arthur squinted at the sun. "East, will we be out of the woods by nightfall?"

"Aye if ye hurry. And there is an inn on the outskirts of the forest. However it isn't all too easy to navigate your way out of here, and I don't want you crashing and thumping your way through this forest until gods know when. Follow me."

Gwyn almost collapsed with relief. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, before Arthur could say anything. "One more step with him and I'm sure he would have led me into a swamp."

Arthur's face was he picture of injured innocence. "Me? When have I led you astray?"

The woodcutter cut Gwyn's scathing retort off before it could even begin. "Now children, hush. Let me get Zen, my dog and then we had best be off. My name is Carlos by the way."

"Arthur." Arthur offered slightly unwillingly.

"I am Guinevere ."

Carlos' pale blue eyes turned to stare at her piercingly. "Of course you are..." he murmured before disappearing inside his hut.

Gwyn shivered.

The trees grew closer together and the light faded as they plunged deeper into the forest.

Arthur led his horse, walking beside Carlos, the woodcutter's German Sheppard trotted faithfully at his heels.

Gwyn walked beside them, uncharacteristically silent.

They paused only for lunch; Carlos provided them with food which they ate hungrily.

As the day wore on, Carlos and Arthur became involved in a heated discussion about theology.

Arthur, as a prince of the realm had been brought up with the most modern ideas possible and therefore believed firmly in an early form of Christianity, and therefore one God. Carlos on the other hand had a very rustic view on things, and like his ancestors, believed in the fey folk and little else.

Finally Arthur turned to Gwyn in frustration. "Gwyn, what's your view on this?" he asked, turning to glare at the elder man beside him.

Gwyn sighed. "I'm agnostic."

The two men exchanged mystified glances.

Carlos frowned. "Is that a type of disease then?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

_Of perverted innkeepers and cross-dressing_

* * *

Gwyn and Arthur reached the edge of the forest just as the sun was sinking behind the mountains. They turned to thank woodcutter, but found he had already melted back into the long shadows of the trees.

Gwyn shivered. "Where did he go?"

Arthur shrugged, uneasy. "Home, I suppose. Come on, I can see the lights of the inn from here."

"And how do you propose to pay?"

Arthur jingled his money sack smugly.

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Alright then, come on."

They made their way quickly down the hill and handed Barnaby to a hovering stable boy, then entered the inn, Gwyn keeping her eyes carefully on the floor so as not to trip again.

The innkeeper smiled at them. "One room for the night?" he asked knowingly, waggling his eyebrows in a most disturbing manner.

Gwyn blushed bright red. "He's my brother." She blurted.

Arthur's face seemed to fall at the statement for a moment but he appeared to shrug it off and searched round in his money bag for payment.

The innkeepers face dropped. "Oh. Well then. Two rooms I suppose?"

Arthur nodded and placed a gold coin on the filthy counter.

The man's eyes widened. He bit the coin to make sure it was real and then slipped into his pocket, his eyes calculating. He slowly passed them a few bronze coins back, and pointed them up the stairs to their rooms.

"If you feel the need for just one room. All you need to do is call me!" the barkeeps eager voice echoed up the stairs.

"Wanker." Gwyn muttered.

The rooms were next to each other, and small. However they were far better than the house Gwyn had grown up in, so she found it much to her satisfaction.

Arthur and Gwyn met in the corridor a moment later. "Let's get something to eat."

Arthur practically sprinted down the stairs he was so intent on getting food.

Gwyn followed at a slower pace, studying the cracks in the wall with interest. Unfortunately for her, she didn't notice the missing step on the stairway and tripped, flying face forwards down the stairs.

Arthur spun and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around." Gwyn joked feebly, staring up at Arthur.

Arthur managed a weak smile, setting her on her feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "Fine, thanks to you. Come on."

Arthur stared at her for a few moments. "Did it hurt?" he blurted.

"I said I was-"

"You know, when you fell from heaven?"

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "You just couldn't resist could you?"

Arthur grinned sheepishly.

They walked back to the counter and ordered some food then went to sit at one of the tables.

Gwyn looked around with interest; she had never been in an inn before.

In one corner a heavily cloaked man sat in the shadows, watching the room, the firelight glinting off his sword. Gwyn shuddered and turned her attention to the rest of the room.

Three soldiers sat at one of the tables drinking heavily from tankards of mead and playing some sort of dice game, a few sailors sat around the room, most of them keeping to themselves in small groups, talking quietly.

Gwyn turned her attention back to her own table as food was served by an overly curvy woman who wouldn't stop smiling at the prince.

Arthur grinned back, his attention fixed on the woman's chest. "You know if you were a door…"

"Arthur!" Gwyn yelled cutting him off.

Arthur smiled guilty. "Sorry."

The woman stalked off.

Gwyn scowled into her rabbit stew and took a gulp from her tankard, only to spray it back out again.

"What is that stuff?" she coughed.

Arthur bit his lip to stop himself laughing. "Its ale; a refined taste."

"Refined? It tastes like someone drowned a rat in a barrel and left it to rot for a couple of months!"

Arthur put down his own tankard, looking slightly green. "You're probably not far off there." He muttered.

Gwyn paled and proceeded to tip the rest of her tankard into a pot in the corner from which vines were growing up the walls.

"Charming." Arthur muttered dryly-though that could have been because his stomach had been denied his drink after Gwyn's description of the ale. "Shall we retire?"

"Wake me in the morn-or rather don't." Yawned Gwyn, she stood and stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom. She fell onto the bed, staying awake just long enough to hear Arthur enter his own room.

Gwyn was woken at the crack of dawn by the inn's rooster crowing smugly.

Gwyn proceeded to hide under her pillow and when that didn't drown out the racket she sat up. If she was going to be miserable, Gwyn reasoned, she might as well make someone else miserable with her.

She stood up and wandered into Arthur's room.

The prince lay resting peacefully in his bed, curled up under the covers with a tranquil expression upon his face.

Gwyn smirked. Perfect.

She grabbed the pitcher of water on the low table and grinning with delight, upended it on Arthur's unsuspecting face.

Later, occupants of the tavern would credit the ungodly screaming to the inn's resident ghost, as it was Gwyn just stood there chortling with delight as Arthur's blood curling screams eventually died to pathetic whimpers.

Eventually he opened his eyes and caught site of Gwyn's gleeful smirk. His eyes narrowed to slits and he snarled.

Gwyn backed away holding the pitcher in front of her like a shield. Arthur stood, glaring at Gwyn who blushed as she caught site of his darkly muscled chest.

Arthur looked down and an answering blush spread across his face, he grabbed a shirt and quickly threw it on.

Gwyn smiled innocently. "Time to wake up?" she tried.

Arthur muttered a word that no cultured young man should know and yawned. "Alright alright, let's go breakfast."

Gwyn sighed as she followed him down the stairs. "I would _kill_ for cornflakes right now."

Arthur frowned at loss, he was beginning to learn to ignore Gwyn's strange comments.

Gwyn rolled her eyes and followed Arthur down the stairs, they frowned at the site that met their eyes, the room was empty, and silent save for a slight clanging that came from behind the bar counter.

Gwyn frowned as she noticed the vine growing up the wall that the night before had been so healthy, had withered and turned brown. "What the hell was in that ale…" Gwyn muttered in distaste.

Arthur cautiously walked over to the bar counter, frowning.

He peered over to see the barman crouched behind the counter, clutching a cross in one shaking hand which was continuously knocking against his wedding ring.

Arthur smiled bemusedly. 'Are you alright?" he asked.

The barman looked at him wide eyed. "The ghost has come for us! Did ye not hear it just a moment ago? Screaming enough to wake the dead it was, sent all my customers off…" the man trailed of desolately

Gwyn shifted guilty, "I am sure it is gone now."

The barman stood and mustered a tremulous smile, his mind immediately assessing how he could make a profit off the two youths. "Perhaps you are right. Do ye wish to buy food?"

Arthur nodded. "Two meals please."

The barman bustled about, grabbing loaves and mead from their dusty shelves and bringing them to the two youths.

As they tucked in, he hovered at their table and smiled lecherously. "Busy night?" he asked, his eyebrows imitating two fat caterpillars in mating season.

Gwyn watched them fascinated for a moment before turning back to her bread hungrily.

Arthur meanwhile had turned pale. "N-no. We are siblings."

The man gave them a knowing wink. 'But of course ye are. Now you just say the word if you or your sweetheart want anything else." He walked away whistling an old love ballad.

Arthur put his head in his hands and groaned softly.

Gwyn looked up. "What's wrong?"

"I just realised how obvious we are! How often to a young girl and boy travel across the country on a horse of high quality? We look like serfs who have run away with their master's horse to have an affair. This won't do."

"Indeed." Gwyn mumbled through a swallow of mead, before promptly spitting it out and hacking harshly as the strong liquid burnt her throat.

Arthur laughed and patted her on the back. "Come on Gwyn, take it like a man!"

"But I'm not a man." She wheezed out.

Arthur's merry demeanour disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"No…But you could be.

Gwyn stared at him, "I don't know which way you swing but I am not fulfilling your sick fantasies by-" Arthur cut her off with a yell, "Not like that!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

_Meetings, instant dislikes, and irrational vendettas_

* * *

That afternoon, a mile east of the tavern, two boys leading a dirty white horse walked through the crowded streets of Awero City, receiving not a second look.

The shorter of the two youths scratched his covered head irritably. "This hat itches!" Gwyn hissed from under the largely oversized peasant's hat that perched on her face, covering most of her face from view.

"Just shut up and keep walking." Arthur muttered with his head down.

They made their way over to one of the numerous stalls that peppered the streets and bought some provisions for the continuation of their journey.

The next town was a full day's ride away, and as they grew further away from civilised country, the wild countryside became overpopulated with thieves and vagabonds, too dangerous to be spending the nights out in the wild. Therefore they decided to start off again in the morning to reach the next inn by nightfall the following day.

They wasted the next few hours wandering the streets and taking in the sites, trying to keep out of people's way.

They stood resting in an alcove away from the main bustle of the crowds, Barnaby peacefully attempting to eat his own horseshoe.

Arthur suddenly straightened, nudging Gwyn. "Do you see that man over there? The one who's cloak is pulled so low over his face? He stayed at the tavern last night I am sure of it, and I believe I have seen him in the city several times today. Look how he rests by the wall not far from us, as if he is waiting for something. He's following us, I am sure of it."

Gwyn followed Arthur's gaze to the man swathed in shadows. "Either that or you have an obsessive stalker."

"He's a man." Arthur pointed out flatly.

Gwyn patted his shoulder condescendingly. "It's alright to have issues with that type of thing; in fact it's perfectly normal for one with your mentality."

If looks could kill, Gwyn would have been dead seven times over.

"I'm not gay!"

"Of course not Arthur, no-one send you were." Gwyn said soothingly, much to the prince's dismay.

The argument would quite probably continued for some time, had the man watching them not begun to walk towards them, his hand dropping to his sword hilt ominously.

Gwyn gulped. Arthur took one look at the stranger and pushed her deeper into the shadows. "Quickly, down that alleyway. He looks like he knows how to use that sword!"

They melted into the shadows, given away only by the clopping of Barnaby's iron shod shoes on the cobblestones.

Gwyn risked a quick glance behind her as they hurried down the narrow alley, and shivered as she saw the figure hastening after them.

"Arthur! He's after us!"

Arthur threw a glance over his shoulder and frowned, skidding to a halt. "You are right. Take Barnaby and go on without me, I will meet up with you later."

Gwyn immediately shook her head. "You're lying! I'm not leaving you!"

Arthur glared at her. "Tell me what help can you be? You cannot even wield a weapon."

"Teach me." Gwyn blurted.

Arthur frowned, and pulled out his sword, the blade sliding out of its sheath with an eerie ring of steel. "Well, the first thing you must learn is how to draw it…" he began.

Gwyn stared at him. "Not now you imbecile! Kill the warrior and then let's go!"

Arthur blushed. "Right. You should probably know I am still learning how to wield a sword."

Gwyn paled.

Arthur held his sword in front of him and squinted into the shadows, looking for their ominous follower.

He appeared out of the darkness a moment later, clothed in dark garments, a hood pulled low over his face and a naked blade in his hand.

Arthur gulped.

Gwyn patted his arm nervously, "Don't worry this is a faery tale, it has to have a happy ending."

Arthur stared at her for a second before bringing his sword up.

Without warning the man struck, bringing his sword sweeping in from one side and attempting to strike the prince in his side.

Arthur ducked and swung at him, their swords clashing in a loud ring of steel. With a sudden flick of his wrist, the stranger dispelled Arthur's sword which clattered against the road.

"Shite." Muttered Gwyn.

Arthur looked at the figure desperately. "What do you want?"

The stranger's voice split the cold air like a scythe through corn.

"You. Dead."

* * *

There was a sudden silence, and then the man burst out laughing, sheathing his sword. "Just kidding. Ah sorry I couldn't resist." He pulled down his hood, revealing a young man, perhaps year or two older than Arthur, he was slim and tall, and had a full head of curly hair.

Arthur's dumbfounded expression suddenly broke into an enormous grin and he embraced the man. "Lancelot how did you know it was me?"

The man grinned. "Your own appearance might have changed with all the dirt Arthur but I'd recognise Barnaby anywhere!"

Gwyn moaned. Why did Barnaby always have to complicate matters?

The man drew away from Arthur and regarded Gwyn suspiciously. "Who's the urchin?" he asked Arthur.

Gwyn gritted her teeth but decided Arthur would handle it better than her.

"This is…Nero." Arthur supplied.

Lancelot looked over Gwyn once again before abruptly turning away. "You did a foolish thing Arthur, your father is mad with worry; I have been tracking you hard these past few days. We can speak of everything later; let us get you to safety."

"Where?" asked Arthur, immediately accepting his friend's orders.

"There is a tavern I am staying at not far from here; two guards are with me, Galahad and Gawain. We will meet them there."

Arthur immediately made to follow Lancelot out of the alleyway, but paused as Gwyn hesitated.

He turned back and went to her side, frowning. Lancelot stopped and frowned impatiently but made no move to join them.

Gwyn bit her lip, and kept her voice low, so Lancelot could not hear them. "Arthur, you don't need me anymore. Lancelot can look after you now, and far better than I could. He is a solider; he can protect you and will know the land more than I. I think our journey together is over."

Arthur looked at her surprised, it had not occurred to him that she would leave. "Gwyn, I said I would help you look for your family, and I meant it. It is also safer for you to travel with people is it not? I…I enjoy your company immensely, please do not think of leaving just yet?"

Gwyn grinned. "I thought…now he is here you would not wish me to stay, but since you still want me, I will and gladly so."

Arthur clapped her on the shoulder. "Right now we have that sorted, let's follow Lancelot . And say nothing of your true identity; it will take time and patience to explain to him, it shall be done later."

They made their way to the entrance of the alley where Lancelot waited impatiently, Arthur leading Barnaby.

Lancelot threw Gwyn a curt glance and led Arthur through the crowded streets, Gwyn following.

They made their way quickly through the narrow alleys and soon arrived at an inn named 'the Dancing Bear'. Lancelot entered without hesitation and led them up the stairs to a room, Gwyn noticed with a chill of distrust that he had shut the door and locked it behind them,

The room was small, two men were sitting on the bed, one was small and wiry, his skin tanned and a black beard adorned his face, he looked like an able warrior. The other was tall and gangly, with pale skin and shaggy brown hair; Gwyn immediately named him Bean in her head.

The stood upon Lancelot ' entrance, twin grins splitting their faces as they caught sight of Arthur.

"My lord!" they bowed to him.

Gwyn hovered by the wall uncertainly, feeling horribly out of place.

Arthur sighed. "It's just Arthur now, or Arthur. I have no intention of going back yet."

The guards grin's faded.

Lancelot spun. "_What? _We have to go back! Your father is worried _sick_!"

Arthur shook his head mulishly. "No, I have undertaken a quest, I swore myself a solemn oath, and I made a promise to G-Nero." Arthur finished stumbling, desperate to find excuses so as not to have to go back.

Everyone's attention suddenly switched to Gwyn.

She gulped. "Hi?" she muttered, it came out more of a squeak than the manly drawl she'd been aiming for.

Arthur winced. "This is Nero; he guided me through the forest and is a loyal companion." He blabbered.

Everyone stared at the small skinny 'boy' that stood in the corner, wearing oversized clothing which belonged to Arthur, watching them nervously, and then turned to stare at the prince.

Arthur shrugged. "It is true. I am leaving tomorrow and Nero is going with me. You must go back to the castle and tell father not to worry."

Gwyn rolled he eyes. "That's like giving a murderer a knife in a roomful of people and telling him not to hurt anyone; aint gonna happen." She drawled as manfully as possible, wincing as the room fell silent as her odd remark.

Then one of the guards nodded. "He speaks the truth; we will not leave you my prince."

The taller of the two gaurds nodded in agreement, "this reminds me of this one time when I-" he was cut off by the other guard nudging him, Gwyn heard an audible mutter of "now is not the time!"

Arthur groaned, unware of the small exchange that had just taken place. "Then you will accompany me without using silly titles and help us on our quests."  
Lancelot glared at Gwyn. "How do we know we can trust the urchin? He has the look of a thief and a liar."

Gwyn let out a yelp of indignation, drowned out by Arthur's own bellow of rage. "This g-boy has helped me and all you can do is suspect him? I will not stand for it; you will either treat him well, or go back to my father."

Lancelot bowed his head. "I apologize." He said stiffly.

Arthur nodded then switched his attention to the guards. "What are your names?"

"Gawain my lord." The fair skinned one said with a smile and a flourish.

The other bowed his head stoically. "Galahad."

"Do you wish to journey with us or turn back? You will not be judged by either choice, it is on your own will."  
"We will not abandon you my lord."

"It's Arthur or Arthur from now on." He said firmly.

"Or A." Gwyn muttered very quietly from her corner.

Gawain snorted.

Lancelot turned and gasped. "This insolence-!" he spluttered too outraged to form a proper sentence.

Arthur, after a moment's pause stood up for Gwyn, albeit slightly stiffly. "I thought it was funny."

Gwyn turned to Lancelot smirking. "Owned Motherfucker!"

Lancelot turned purple.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

_The End of pickle._

* * *

Gwyn was woken by Arthur gently shaking her shoulder at dawn the next day, after several seconds entertaining the idea of wringing Arthur's neck, Gwyn got up and broke fast-"does it look like I'm breakings something? And I'm certainly not doing it fast!"- They left relatively quickly. Gwyn rode behind Arthur on Barnaby, while Lancelot rode on his own horse, inexplicitly named Dustbin.

The two guards each had their own horses too, and they took up the rear, they appeared to be good friends, and mainly kept to themselves. Galahad was a fairly quiet man, though what he had to say usually made sense. Gawain on the other hand was wildly talkative and little of it was relevant, it was also, Gwyn noted, mostly about himself, not that Galahad seemed to mind.

They stopped at midday for a bite to eat; Lancelot handed out small portions of dried meat to them all.

Gwyn stared at her piece nervously. "What _is _this?"

Lancelot frowned. "It is what all the kingdoms soldiers eat, hearty long lasting travel fare."  
"Yes but _what _is it?"

"It's the tongue of bear, full of nutrients and considered a delicacy in some countries." Lancelot snapped.

Gwyn's eyes bulged. "No wonder Bean-I mean Gawain is so skinny if this is the type of fare he has to eat."

Gawain sat up and glared at her, "What do you mean Bean!?"

Lancelot snarled. 'Listen boy, don't you dare let me hear another word from you, and that's an order! You shouldn't even be here-"

Arthur put his arm on his Lancelot' shoulder. "Calm down Lance. He's here because I want him to be, please try to accept that."

Gwyn squirmed uncomfortably in the resulting silence to Arthur's statement. Lancelot gave a curt nod.

Gwyn looked at Arthur frowning. "So when's the next large city?" she asked curiously.

Lancelot answered quickly, attempting to prevent Gwyn talking to the prince. "Three days, as the crow flies."

Gwyn blinked. "Lancelot. You do realise….we aren't crows?" she spoke slowly as if to a small child.

Lancelot let out a smothered moan and began strangling the air in front of him.

Arthur's mouth twitched. "Stop provoking him Nero."

The journey continued in this manner for some time, and would likely not have abated if they had not run into bandits the next day.

They came out of nowhere, suddenly a group of about twenty men appeared over the crest of a hill.

Gwyn-who was once again riding behind Arthur-gasped in surprise, "Well screw my sideways" she blurted and promptly fell of her horse quite ungracefully.

"Flapper jack!" Arthur swore and drew his sword, quickly followed by Lancelot and the guards.

They were hopelessly outnumbered but fought desperately. Arthur was in the thick of it, fighting viciously, when he heard Gwyn scream. He quickly stabbed the unfortunate bandit that he was engaged in combat with and raced to Gwyn's side7. She was pinned to a nearby oak tree by one of the bandits, his dagger at her throat.

Arthur gutted him from behind without hesitation. "Are you alright?" he asked Gwyn.

Gwyn nodded her eyes wide.

Arthur forced a smile. "Stay hidden." Then he plunged back into the melee.

Gwyn determinedly pulled out her small dagger from her belt and looked around.

Gawain and Galahad were fighting back to back, coolly dispatching bandit after bandit. Arthur was cutting a large swath through the band of men; Lancelot however was in trouble, fighting off two men at a time, blood running down his arm.

Gwyn's eyes narrowed. Her friendship with Lancelot was somewhat strained, however she knew he was Arthur's friend.

Gwyn carefully made her way closer to Lancelot, avoiding the enraged bandits. Gwyn smiled as a gap opened between the flashing of swords between Lancelot and the men. She ducked through and grinned at Lancelot. "Good day for it." She managed.

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "And what good-" he began, but never finished his sentence as one of the bandits pivoted, coming up behind Lancelot with the intent of running him through.

Gwyn let out a yell and pushed him to the side, narrowly dodging the blow herself.

Lancelot yelled something unintelligible and beheaded the bandit that had so nearly dealt Gwyn the blow, then engaged in an intensive fight with his remaining opponent. The bandit that he was fighting was a large heavy set man, with at least three days growth of a beard and a mop of orange hair. He was known by his friends-of which he had very few- as Pickle. No-one knew why.

Pickle was in a slight pickle-no pun intended- as although he didn't have enough brain cells to string a can of beans together, Pickle had realised he was facing a superior and incensed swordsman, and the intelligent thing to do was to flee, however a small delusional voice in Pickle's head was telling him running was a cowards way out and if he didn't run he would win and be a hero. Pickle was just in the process of naming the little voice Derek when Lancelot' blade pierced his heart. He dropped like a very heavy tonne of bricks. As Pickle lay on the turf feeling his lifeblood trickle away from him, he thought he heard the little voice cackling manically, and promised himself never to trust small invisible voices again. And that was the end of Pickle.

Lancelot knelt by Gwyn who in the fray had been dealt a nasty blow to the head and had collapsed "Are you alright?" he asked her.

Gwyn groaned, already regretting her spur in the moment act.

Lancelot shook his head worriedly. "It looks like you have a serious concussion; lie still for the moment, the remaining bandits must be dealt with."

Gwyn's moan of response could have either been due to pain or agreement, however Lancelot didn't wait to find out, instead he charged back into the fray.

The remaining bandits, of which there were about ten, had by this time regrouped, and their superior numbers were beginning to tell on the other group.

First Gawain went down, the hilt of a sword smashed directly into his forehead, causing Galahad to yell and throw himself into the thick of battle, standing over his friends body protectively. Then Arthur took a knife wound to his sword arm and suddenly the leader of the bandits grabbed Arthur from behind and swung him up onto his horse, quickly knocking him senseless and riding away from Gwyn and the rest of her group, his remaining men retreating with him. It all happened in a moment and those left conscious were unable to do anything to save Arthur, within moments they were out of sight.

Lancelot began to swear repeatedly. "ahhhdamnallpotatoesmaytheyrotinhell!"

Gwyn stared at him.

Lancelot took a deep breath. "Sorry I just had to let that out."

"Well, no point crying over spilt milk." Gwyn muttered, ignoring the rest of the group as they all furtively looked around for the so called spilt milk, each too embarrassed to admit they had no idea what Gwyn was talking about.

Gwyn glared at the assembled group. "I'm sure it will turn out happily, after all this is a faery tale. Right, Lancelot, take a look at my head, Galahad, tend to Gawain, once he wakes we must rescue Arthur."

Lancelot shook his head, ignoring her strange statement. "No. We go back to Arthur's father as we should have done from the beginning. We must fetch as many of the guards as we can and rescue the prince."

Gwyn shook her head. "By then it could be too late, we must act now! You owe it to me."

Lancelot' eyes almost fell out. "I _what_?"

"I saved your life. You own me a life debt."

"Why you indigenous pumpkin!" Lancelot squealed in horror. He glared fiercely. "you bandy legged inebriated flesh decaying iridescent grasshopper!"

They stared at him.

He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, went off into my own little tangent there."

"No shit." Drawled Gwyn.

Galahad shook his head. "Stop it both of you! We must tend to our wounds, and Gawains, before we do anything else."

Lancelot nodded, "You are right." He crouched beside Gwyn who was sitting up with her back against a tree, and frowned. "it's a nasty lump alright, we shall have to make sure you stay awake for a while and keep an eye on it".

Gwyn nodded uncomfortably, nervous with having him examining her so closely, with Arthur gone, she held no trust of the men she was with; men that she must stay with to help her find Arthur. She was safer as a boy then a girl.

Lancelot turned to Galahad next, "how fares Gawain?" Galahad leapt up and rushed over to Gawain worriedly, leaving Gwyn glaring up at Lancelot.

Lancelot rubbed his forehead tiredly. "We will find the next village and leave you enough money to buy provisions and then make your way home. The crown is grateful for your services."

Gwyn snarled and impulsively punched Lancelot in the nose. "_Bastard_." She hissed. "I will not abandon Arthur. I am going to find him, as are you."

Lancelot yelled and clutched his nose, blood running down his face. "So be it" he snarled and stalked away to bind his gushing nose.

They left the site some hours later, Gawain sporting a black lump on his forehead and Lancelot a bandaged nose.

"Id dis way." Lancelot snuffled through his nose.

Gwyn snickered.

Lancelot glared at Gwyn, "if ib were you-" he began, but was interrupted by Gwyn, grinning wildly. "If you were me you wouldn't sound quite so silly"

Lancelot snarled. "Screw you"

"Anytime" Gwyn winked.

Lancelot' expression took on one of utter disgust, and he walked off with a face like thunder to confide in Barnaby.

A moment later they were off again, this time Barnaby leading the way, sure footed and fast, almost as if he knew exactly where he was going. The rest of the group picked up pace without realising it, until Gwyn suddenly stopped. "Hang on, why are we following a horse?" she asked the rest of the group.

"Because it has more intelligence then you?" Lancelot muttered under his breath.

Gwyn sighed "well didn't you out on the wrong side of the bed today?"

"How does one tell which side is right?" whispered Gawain.

Galahad shook his head and went to check his bandage again, much to Gawain's annoyance.

Lancelot glared "Oh so there's a wrong side and a right side is there now urchin?"

Gwyn snorted, "It was a metaphorical question lack wit."

There was a silence as everyone contemplated what metaphorical meant.

Lancelot had just decided it must have something to do with 'the milk episode' as it had so been dubbed, when Gwyn spoke again, stubbornly ignoring Lancelot.

"What happened to the handsome blonde tracker who is supposed to lead us to the prince? He's always there in _real_ faery tales" She muttered miserably.

Just at that moment a young man stumbled out of the bushes panting. "Sorry I got lost!" he wheezed, his acne shining with sweat.

Gwyn wrinkled her nose.

The youth drooped, accentuating his gangly awkwardness. He reached up to scratch his head and swore as his mop of blonde hair came off in his hand, revealing the eczema covered bald scalp beneath. "Sorry, my hair won't grow you see, it's a disease I had, but my master says I have to have blonde hair to do the job properly."

Gwyn grimaced. "They sent an apprentice tracker? Of all the luck."

"No one sent me sir." The youth scratched his wig nervously.

Gwyn proceeded to give the sky the finger. "Damn you to hell" she shouted, ignoring the others crossing themselves at her blasphemy.

There was a sudden roar of thunder and rain abruptly poured down.

"Oh conker," moaned Gwyn apologetically.


End file.
